The Lord Just Wants to Have Fun

“Kyaaahhh—!”

“Liberta!”

The maids and Count Este rushed to the terrace, looking over the edge in horror.

The Este manor was built on a cliffside, overlooking the ocean.

Though the waters below were technically the sea, the cliff itself was hundreds of meters high, and the waves were constantly crashing against the rocks.

No ordinary human could survive such a fall.

“What are you all standing around for?! Get down there and find Liberta!”

“Y-yes, sir!”

The knights and soldiers hurried to descend the cliff.

Naturally, the celebratory feast came to an abrupt halt, and the atmosphere plunged into chaos.

Delpharos was at a loss for words.

“Why in the world would she suddenly kill herself? Was she afraid of an assassination attempt by the Countess? Or…?”

The search for Liberta continued long after nightfall.

Knights scoured the cliffs and even dived into the sea, but they found no trace of her.

“Hnnngh…! O gods, why do you torment me so…?”

“Do not despair, my lord. There is still no clear proof that Lady Liberta is lost forever.”

Half out of his mind with grief, Count Este barely registered Delpharos’s words of comfort.

With a formal bow, Delpharos took his leave, setting off on his return journey.

******

Just as Delpharos was leaving Este County, something unexpected happened.

“What?! A stowaway in the cargo hold?!”

“Yes, master. But… you won’t believe who it is.”

The person the crew had dragged out was none other than Lady Liberta Este.

For a moment, Delpharos was so stunned that he could only stare in silence.

Then, his expression darkened as he scolded her.

“What in the world were you thinking?! Do you have any idea how devastated your father is?!”

At first, Liberta remained silent.

Then, after a long pause, she finally spoke.

“…I’m sorry for the trouble, Master Delpharos. But please, just take me to Campania.”

“And what do you plan to do there? What if I refuse? You should return home immediately!”

But Liberta simply shook her head.

Seeing her firm resolve, Delpharos sighed, about to order the ship to turn around and bring her back by force.

But before he could, Liberta suddenly climbed onto the railing of the ship.

“Stop! That’s dangerous!”

“If you won’t take me… I’ll have to jump overboard.”

“…Hah. Fine. I’ll take you.”

Seeing the determination in her eyes, Delpharos reluctantly gave in.

Of course, that didn’t mean he was giving up entirely.

“Once we reach Campania, I’ll send a message to Count Este right away.”

*****

After the blessed rain, Philip and his retainers had been busier than ever.

“My lord, we have very little information about the five new villages we’ve acquired.”

At Chief Agricultural Minister Boris’s report, Philip looked up from his paperwork.

“Shouldn’t we have census records for that?”

To collect taxes, assign labor duties, and draft soldiers, an administrative record was absolutely necessary.

“Yes, we should… but the Mirabeau administrators are refusing to cooperate.”

“They claim the documents are too old, that they’re too damaged to read, or that the records aren’t useful anymore…”

Philip narrowed his eyes.

“So they’re being petty about it, huh?”

He wasn’t about to start another war just over some paperwork, so he had no choice but to gather the information manually.

But it was far from easy.

“Even if we rush the process, it will take several months.

We’re already overloaded with existing responsibilities and post-war administration.

There just aren’t enough people to handle everything.”

Philip glanced at his exhausted retainers.

Dark circles had formed under all their eyes.

After all, they were already struggling just to manage the current workload.

In addition to war rewards and territorial adjustments, new projects were piling up—such as establishing workshops to produce soap and glass.

“My lord, if you were to personally lend a hand, it would greatly speed things up.”

“That’s not happening. I have to fulfill the sacred mission given to me by Eldir.”

“…Sigh. I see. If it’s for the mission, then I suppose it can’t be helped.”

Philip flatly refused, using his divine duties as an excuse.

Truthfully, he had zero interest in drowning in administrative work.

“Looks like it’s time to hire more administrators.”

There had been applicants for administrative positions—but none of them were qualified.

Instead of listing their skills or education, most spent their time boasting about their family connections.

Naturally, Philip was unimpressed.

“These idiots think networking is everything.”

“My lord, connections are important. We can’t entrust important roles to complete outsiders.”

“I get that, but there’s a limit to how much I can tolerate!”

“There has to be a way to find competent people in bulk…”

Just as Philip was deep in thought, Helen spoke up with an unexpected solution.

“My lord, I heard that graduates of Socra College are struggling to find jobs in the Royal Capital these days.”

“What?! Socra College?! That’s your school, isn’t it?”

Philip’s voice rose involuntarily in surprise.

Startled, Helen flinched, hurriedly bowing her head.

“I-I’m sorry! I wasn’t trying to push a personal connection! I just thought it might help since you’re looking for administrators…”

“I’m not angry. Just tell me more details. What’s going on with these graduates?”

Seeing that Philip wasn’t upset, Helen sighed in relief and began explaining.

“As you know, unlike academies, which focus on general education, colleges provide practical training.

They are well known as a stepping stone into government positions.”

Unlike academies, which were mostly for noble socializing, colleges had diverse student bodies:

Younger noble children with no inheritance rights
Illegitimate sons ignored by prestigious families
Wealthy merchants’ children seeking status
Talented commoners who climbed up from nothing

They all worked hard, dreaming of becoming bureaucrats.

But in reality, only a tiny fraction landed good positions.

“I figured as much. Government jobs are limited.”

“Yes. And most positions go to those with connections, not merit.

The same goes for vassal positions under nobles.”

Without background or support, becoming a bureaucrat was impossible.

Many positions were already occupied by established families, and certain offices, like trade and commerce, were dominated by long-lived races like elves and dwarves.

As a result, commoner graduates often ended up:

Becoming secretaries for minor nobles
Working as clerks for trading companies or mercenary groups
Struggling with low-paying transcription work

Some were barely surviving, unable to find stable employment.

“Even this world has a youth unemployment crisis, huh?”

Philip turned to see Mau, smugly chewing popcorn.

His expression flattened.

“Who asked for this reincarnation in the first place?“

He didn’t volunteer to be born a noble—and now Mau was telling him to be grateful?

The shamelessness was unbelievable.

“Wait a second… Did you steal popcorn again?”

“Then what’s that crumb on your mouth?”

Mau vanished immediately, making Philip scoff.

Turning back to Helen, he asked:

“But if there are so many unemployed graduates, why don’t any of them come here?”

“This is the countryside, my lord.

It’s easier to get promoted in the capital, and coming to an unknown province is risky.

If they end up in a bad situation, they have no connections to rely on.”

Philip frowned.

“Tch. So even this world has a ‘Capital Supremacy’ mindset.”

“…Excuse me, my lord? What was that just now?”

“Nothing. Anyway, we should recruit these graduates.

Send them invitations immediately.”

As Philip was reviewing documents, he heard a commotion outside.

Curious, he glanced out the window—only to see Terry and Siria engaged in a heated exchange.

“Darling, the weather’s perfect today! Let’s go on a picnic!”

“I’m busy. I have to supervise the soldiers’ sword training today.”

“Then after training, come to my room for dinner~. I’ll make it worth your while.”

“D-Don’t cling to me like that! It’s too hot for this…”

Siria, dressed in thin, form-fitting clothes, gazed at him sultrily, drawing closer as Terry awkwardly backed away.

Seeing his flustered expression, Siria grinned mischievously and followed after him.

Philip let out a chuckle at the sight.

“Are all barbarian women this aggressive?”

Before Philip could respond, he heard another sound—the grinding of teeth.

Turning, he saw Helen, her eyes blazing as she glared daggers at Siria.

“Ugh! How vulgar…!”

Her voice quivered with disapproval as she turned to Philip.

“My lord, are you really going to let such an immoral woman behave so shamelessly? If we allow this, it could corrupt the morals of the people! I suggest we expel her immediately.”

Philip raised a brow.

“I don’t see the problem.”

“B-But…”

“Is there… another reason you want her gone?”

Helen’s face turned red as she stole a glance at Terry—then quickly shook her head.

“N-No! Nothing at all!”

“Ohhh… So Helen likes Terry, huh?”

Philip had originally thought of Helen as a meticulous, intelligent woman—but seeing her jealous side, he realized she was just as normal as anyone else.

In the end, watching drama unfold—whether it was fires or love rivalries—was one of life’s greatest entertainments.

After all, romantic comedies and soap operas were popular for a reason.

Philip didn’t particularly care who won Terry’s heart.

Helen or Siria—either way, it’d be interesting.

Besides, thanks to Terry, Siria was enthusiastically following orders.

“Anyway, Helen, did you finish writing the letters?”

“Oh! Right!”

“Once they’re done, bring them to me for sealing.”

“Understood, my lord!”

As Helen rushed off to complete her work, Philip smirked.

“Go get him, Helen. Love is war.”

******

One day, a group of ten unfamiliar figures rode into the territory on horses and mules.

“Who are they?”

“I don’t know. They don’t look like bandits or beggars, though.”

“They don’t have wagons or merchandise, so they’re probably not merchants either.”

The sentinels guarding the border road blocked their approach for inspection.

“Halt! Identify yourselves and state your business in this territory.”

At the soldier’s demand, the strangers came to a stop.

Stepping forward, their representative—a man in his late twenties with short curly hair—smiled smoothly.

“We are not suspicious individuals. We were invited by your lord.”

“The lord? Do you have proof?”

“Of course. Here’s the letter from Lord Philip himself.”

Handing over the letter, the soldiers examined it—confirming the seal of House Brandel.

Realizing that the visitors were legitimate, the guards quickly sent a messenger to the castle.

When Philip received the news, he smirked.

“Finally! My slaves—I mean, my administrative candidates—have arrived.”